The headquarters of the Kazdel Military Commission was situated in a relatively intact area of the mobile city.
Inside, the conference hall contained only a ring-shaped stone table. The walls were devoid of superfluous decoration, bearing only the insignias of the Sarkaz Royal Courts throughout history.
When Lacey walked in, accompanied by Theresia and Ascalon, several people were already seated within the hall.
Theresis sat on one side of the head seat, with Manfred standing behind him.
Theresis remained expressionless. Upon seeing the Black Crown atop Lacey's head as he walked in side-by-side with his sister, a ripple—difficult to detect—flashed deep within Theresis's eyes, but calm was restored an instant later.
"Sit."
He was concise, pointing to the empty seat opposite him.
That was the position reserved for the Lord of Fiends, Theresia. Today, however, it would welcome a new master.
Lacey took the seat composedly. Theresia sat beside him, while Ascalon, like Manfred, stood quietly behind the two.
Soon, more footsteps approached from the doorway.
The first to enter was a figure completely wrapped in strips of cloth resembling a white shroud, revealing only a pair of eyes sunken deep in shadow.
He walked soundlessly, his body emanating an aura of decay and death.
The moment he entered the hall, the temperature of the entire space seemed to drop several degrees.
Nachzehrer King, Nietzhere.
One of the "Seven Sarkaz Heroes," known as the "God of War."
He looked at no one, walking straight to his seat and sitting down. He remained motionless, appearing to merge with the surrounding shadows.
Immediately following him, a young man with a handsome appearance, resembling an elegant noble, walked in.
He wore a well-tailored formal suit. His blood-red eyes carried an innate arrogance, and a faint, mocking smile hung at the corner of his mouth.
Sanguinarch Duqare.
His gaze swept across the room. When he saw Nietzhere, a cold snort escaped his nasal cavity.
When his line of sight fell upon the Black Crown atop Lacey's head, that arrogance was slightly reined in, transforming into a kind of scrutiny.
He bowed slightly, performing a noble's salute, before taking his seat.
The last to arrive was a lady who still retained her charm.
She wore an elegant black dress, a gentle smile on her face.
Time seemed to have treated her with exceptional favor, leaving few marks on her face and instead depositing a radiance of motherhood.
The Banshee Lord, Lamalien Dukanfalise.
Also one of the Seven Heroes, and an old friend of Lacey.
Her appearance diluted the grim, murderous atmosphere in the conference hall significantly.
"Lacey, you've finally deigned to return." Lamalien paid no heed to the others, walking straight up to Lacey and unceremoniously touching his face.
Lacey smiled and said, "Lamalien, long time no see."
"Long time no see? Indeed, it has been a long time. Decades," Lamalien looked him up and down, her gaze landing on the Black Crown atop his head, her expression becoming complex. "I thought you had died in some forgotten corner. I didn't expect that the moment you returned, you would cause such a huge commotion."
"It's a long story."
"Then we can talk about it slowly later." Lamalien patted his arm, her eyes full of genuine joy.
"It is good that you are back. It is good that you are back. That child, Aifanier, still often talks about the bone flute melody you taught him back then."
Mentioning her son, the smile on Lamalien's face became even more tender.
On the other side, Sanguinarch Duqare also stood up and walked slowly toward Lacey.
He was not as familiar as Lamalien; instead, he sized Lacey up with a gaze that bordered on probing.
"Lacey the Undying. I have heard much of your name." Duqare's voice was rounded and magnetic, yet carried a condescending intent of scrutiny.
"I have always been curious. What kind of noble bloodline is it that allows one to be ranked alongside them as a hero?"
"Now it seems the Black Crown has given me the answer."
He extended a finger, seemingly wanting to touch the Black Crown on Lacey's head, but ultimately stopped in mid-air.
"This crown would not choose a mongrel with base lineage."
"Inside your body, there must flow some powerful ancient bloodline that has long been lost."
"Although it doesn't smell like any known Royal Court... the fragrance of that power... cannot be mistaken."
Duqare closed his eyes, as if tasting some peerless fine wine, a look of obsession appearing on his face.
He was a thorough bloodline supremacist. In his eyes, power was equal to lineage.
That Lacey could be chosen by the Black Crown proved his "nobility" in itself.
This recognition from the Sanguinarch surprised even Theresia, who sat nearby.
Even Nietzhere, who had been silent all along, turned his head toward them. Those eyes hidden in the shadows lingered on Lacey for a moment.
He did not speak, only nodding slightly as a greeting.
For this God of War, the camaraderie of fighting side-by-side on the battlefield was far more important than bloodline or status.
The brief reminiscence was interrupted by the dull sound of Theresis knocking on the table.
"Everyone is here. Let the meeting begin."
The hall instantly fell silent.
Everyone returned to their seats.
Theresia cleared her throat and was the first to stand.
She looked around, her gaze finally resting on Lacey.
"I have summoned everyone here today for a major matter concerning the future of Kazdel." Her voice echoed in the conference hall.
"As you can see, Lacey has returned and inherited the position of Lord of Fiends."
"At the same time, he has brought us a brand-new path."
She distributed copies of the parchment with the sketch to every Lord of the Royal Courts present.
"Lord Lacey proposes the establishment of a Kazdel Civil Livelihood Construction Department, dedicated to improving the most basic living conditions of our compatriots."
"The specific plan includes repairing roads, building sturdy houses, purifying water sources, and... utilizing a portion of the energy from the Soul Furnace to build greenhouse farms and introduce agricultural technology, fundamentally solving our food problem."
Theresia's voice carried excitement.
This was something she had always wanted to do but could never find the direction for.
Lacey's plan allowed her to see the dawn in the darkness.
However, as her voice fell, the conference hall remained in total silence.
Lamalien looked carefully at the plan in her hand, her brows slightly furrowed, appearing to be seriously considering its feasibility.
Nietzhere remained like a stone statue, not touching the parchment at all, as if these matters had nothing to do with him.
The one to break the silence was a sneer from Duqare.
"Heh."
He tossed the parchment onto the table casually, as if it were something filthy.
"Civil livelihood construction?" He elegantly wiped the fingers that had just touched the parchment, his blood-red eyes full of ridicule.
"Your Highness Theresia, I respect your benevolence toward our compatriots. But have you forgotten who we are?"
He stood up and spread his arms, his magnificent formal attire unfurling like bat wings.
"We are Sarkaz! We are the most ancient, most noble warrior race on the continent of Terra!"
"Our glory is cast upon the bones of our enemies; our power stems from never-ending war!"
"Yet now you want us to put down our swords and learn from those lowly farmers, dealing with mud and feces?"
His voice rose steeply.
"Our compatriots do not have enough to eat because of those despicable races who stole our land!"
"Our homeland has been reduced to ruins because of the shameless siege of those so-called 'civilized nations'!"
"The solution to the problem is not to dig holes and farm like rats, but to sharpen our claws and teeth, and use the blood of our enemies to irrigate the land of Kazdel!"
"What we need is not some bullshit construction department! It is more legions! It is an invincible armada that can trample Victoria and crush Leithanien!"
Duqare's gaze turned to Lacey. The appreciation that had existed just moments ago was gone, replaced by undisguised disappointment and contempt.
"I had thought that the birth of a new Lord of Fiends would lead us on a journey of revenge."
He shook his head and sat back in his chair, his face written with arrogance and disdain.
"Truly... boring to the extreme."
"For this kind of game of playing house, the Blood-kin Royal Court will not offer its company."
Duqare's words extinguished the flame that had just ignited in Theresia's eyes.
She opened her mouth, wanting to refute him, but found that the other party's logic formed a perfect closed loop—a closed loop based on hatred and war.
In the face of this logic, any talk of peace and development seemed pale and powerless.
The atmosphere in the conference hall instantly dropped to freezing point.
Lamalien's brows furrowed even tighter. She glanced at Theresia, whose face looked awful, then at the expressionless Lacey, but ultimately did not speak.
Theresis remained silent as before, like an outsider, only the finger that had been tapping the table stopped.
Everyone's eyes, intentionally or unintentionally, all focused on Lacey.
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